But I still don’t know what to make of Zero. His edges feel sharper. Attraction is no problem. His light hair and blue, blue eyes could make him seem washed out, but they don’t. It just makes him more striking. Up close, I cup his face in one hand and stroke my thumb over the stubble on his angular jaw. He reminds me of an animal that’s used to violence and is biding its time, waiting to see if the touch will turn to pain.
He’s not a rescue any more than I am, but there’s something there that I feel a connection to.
“You’re right. It’s not a game. But do you want to kiss me anyway?” I ask softly.
Zero shifts his head and my thumb brushes against his lips. I gasp as he sucks it into his mouth and strokes his tongue over the tip before letting it go. Does that mean yes? It feels like a yes. He cradles my head in both hands and pulls me down to meet him. My palm slaps against the wall behind our booth and I let out a ridiculously needy whimper as he claims my mouth. It’s hot, demanding and flat out amazing. One of his hands combs through my hair before sliding down my back to rest on the bare skin between my jeans and my shirt. My hips rock forward without asking permission from my brain.
Ooooooh, these guys are such a bad idea that it wraps around into being good again.
There’s a dry cough from behind me. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I think we might have trouble,” Beast says.
The only way I can describe what happens to Zero is that he slams down a wall and goes from molten hot to icy cold in an instant. I’m off his lap and tucked between him and the wall before I have time to process what’s happening.
“Where?”
Piston subtly points with his glass and a flick of his eyes towards the other side of the room.
“Rat! You’re drunk. Leave it!” a woman whines, pulling at the arm of a greasy looking man in jeans and a leather jacket.
The man shakes her off and comes our way. “No fucking way. They were the ones that showed up here! Yeah, I’m talking to you,” he snarls, slapping his hands down on our table. “This isn’t your territory, go back to your own fucking city.”
“Did one of you fuck his mom or something?” I ask innocently.
All four men stare at me like I grew a second head. Whoops.
Rat—or whatever the heck his name is—lunges in my direction, but he must be pretty drunk if he didn’t account for having to get past three Screaming Eagles to get to me.
Zero blocks the grab and pivots out of the booth, twisting Rat’s arm and driving him straight into the back of another guy. "Don’t even fucking think about touching her.”
I just can’t stay out of trouble, can I?
11
ZERO
Rat,or whatever the fuck his name is, bounces back quickly. I trust Piston and Beast to make sure Sandra stays out of the way, which leaves me free to do what I do best. Target neutralization. I throw myself at him, hitting him high in the chest and with force. Maybe he’d put up a better fight if he wasn’t drunk, but we’ll never know. I nail him in the face with an elbow and he topples backwards.
“What the fuck is your problem,rodent?” I snarl. “We came here for a peaceful fucking beer and now I’ve gotta deal with your blood on my fucking clothes.”
“You motherfuckers killed my cousin!” he yells, cradling his face with blood dripping between his fingers.
I glance back to our booth. Both Piston and Beast are up, forming a wall in front of Sandra. “Rat’s cousin. Does that ring any bells with you guys?”
“Not a fuckin’ thing,” Piston says with a nasty grin.
Beast shakes his head. “Nope.”
“See, I don’t tend to kill people for no reason,” I explain as I close the distance to our new buddy. “There was a time when that reason was that I was getting paid for it, but I’ve put all that behind me now. These days it’s mostly because they were trying to put holes in me or mine where holes shouldn’t be. Was your cousin an asshole, rat face?”
We have an audience now, and the atmosphere is shifting. Rat clearly picked the fight with us, but we aren’t in our home territory. The people who want nothing to do with this are moving away, and the ones who want a reason to pound someone are drifting in our direction. Three nasty looking motherfuckers are leading the charge.
"Hey, pretty boy, you should fucking know better than to come around here." The middle of the three, a ruddy guy with a scraggly beard and tattoos on his forehead, slaps a fist into his palm, stupidly choreographing his intentions. The other two spread out, trying to flank me.
Which could almost work if I was alone. Luckily, I’m not.
One gets too close and Beast launches him like a catapult. The guy lands hard on top of a table, scattering glasses and bottles everywhere. The guys sitting at that table manage to dodge out of the way, but they’re pissed at being interrupted and take it out on the guy who just landed in front of them.
The mess distracts the guy with the face tattoos. Grabbing the opportunity, I step in, grab his arm in two places and spin him around straight into his other friend. Something makes a shark cracking noise. They collapse in a pile on the floor.
